


Served Hot

by Miratete



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bodyswap, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Possession, Rape/Non-con Elements, Remix, Restraints, Revenge, Sad Ending, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: -o-o-o-o-o-First Aid might have slain Pharma in a moment of angry justice, but thanks to the fact that Pharma had bonded with Ratchet in the distant past, Pharma's back.  And he's got revenge on his mind.-o-o-o-o-o-





	1. Pharma's Return

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Revenge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602834) by [Mikiri_Tohoshima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikiri_Tohoshima/pseuds/Mikiri_Tohoshima). 



> -o-o-o-o-o-
> 
> This story is a rewrite/remix of “Revenge” as written by Mikiri_Tohoshima. Mikiri_Tohoshima writes primarily in Italian, which left the English version a bit wanting. But I loved the story and the concept was very intriguing, and I was thusly compelled to rewrite, rearrange, and add to it. Just think of it as an old movie being remade by another director. And do please give the original story a view as well, available at the link just above this paragraph.
> 
> Heed the warnings: non-con sticky sexual interfacing ahead (beginning in chapter 2), and much darkness.
> 
> -o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was sometimes said, that if your bondmate died, you never truly lost him.

They had been together a very long time, even longer than they'd been apart. Their connection had begun well before the war had, back when they were young and sincerely believed that love could conquer all. They'd met, fallen in love, and at last bonded. But times and feelings eventually changed and they'd separated, going their different ways and continuing their lives apart... until that fatal moment when First Aid had murdered Pharma in angry justice.

Despite having been estranged for eons, and despite the incidents at Delphi, and despite the incidents on Luna 1, when Pharma died, Ratchet felt the pain of loss keenly.

Perhaps what was said was true. Though Pharma's spark had been extinguished, Ratchet still felt something for Pharma. Or perhaps something of Pharma. Something humming in his spark chamber and pulsing in his brain module. He didn't understand what it was, but honestly he didn't really care. He didn't have time to care. There was still so much to do, so much to accomplish, so much to deal with. It never failed to amaze him how many Autobots could end up in his medbay in a single day.

It, whatever 'it' was, hummed and pulsed all the louder and harder in the quietest of times. The worst moments were the ones preceding recharge, just as Ratchet off-lined his optics and allowed his frame to cycle down into a relaxed state. Sometimes in those moments it was as if he could hear Pharma, the mech haunting the limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness. Sometimes he was sure he saw the doctor, only to realize that his optics were off-line. Memories of the past, of better times with his conjunx, floated forth easily then. But sometimes, they weren't memories. Sometimes it was as if Pharma were there talking to him.

The days passed. The Lost Light moved on, hurtling from one precarious situation to another. Sometimes it was as if they'd surmount one obstacle, and before they could take a moment to relax they were flung in front of another. But sometimes it was quiet, and that quiet could be most disturbing, for then that hum and pulse and voice moved to the forefront. Sometimes Ratchet had to stop and consider what was real and what was not.

He blamed the tiredness—the tiredness accumulated by nearly countless years of battle and stress. And the fact that he was old. Parts failed. His processor, like his hands had been, could be breaking down little by little.

Unbeknownst to him though, tiredness and age had nothing to do with it.

He'd never realized that when he'd united his spark with Pharma's, that the bond would link more than their souls. No one really understood the connection between the spark and the brain, or the connection between two sparks or two brains. All they knew was that data from one could leak into the other. And what Ratchet didn't realize now was that at Pharma's death, that which was Pharma within Ratchet had woken.

And it was trying to obtain control of that which was not Pharma.

Pharma was quietly alive inside of Ratchet, and one thing Pharma absolutely wanted was revenge upon First Aid and Ratchet. Revenge for his exposing his shame. Revenge for the theft of his hands. Revenge for his death. The crueler the better. And Pharma knew now how to get it. Sooner or later he would be able to take control of Ratchet's frame, at which point no one would be able to stop his plans.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Ratchet caught himself staring at First Aid... again. He went back to his work, patching up Whirl after a bar fight... again. He checked his inner chronometer and found that he'd been staring for some two minutes. Two minutes? Why?

Thankfully First Aid had not noticed. It... would have been awkward to say the least.

He knew inside his spark, that deep down, First Aid was still angry with him. The new CMO was still mourned Ambulon's death and Ratchet's failure to save him. Yes, he knew that Pharma had been the one who'd murdered him, but if Ratchet hadn't suggested the contest... And yes, he knew that Ratchet had pleaded with Pharma to stop when he saw where the procedings were going. But what had transpired that day was woven into so tightly a knot that no one could escape. Those events, along with his deceased bondmate, still haunted him. Whether or not First Aid knew it, he too mourned Ambulon's loss.

Ratchet continued reattaching Whirl's arm, torn off by an angry Riptide. Whirl should have known not to antagonize the big mech. First Aid, across the medibay, was deep in cold concentration as he dealt with the results of several pincer-punctures through Riptide's frame.

Everyone knew that First Aid and Ambulon had been close. They had worked together constantly after coming aboard the Lost Light. Whispers frequently used the word conjunx, though no one confirmed anything. Those long, calm stretches at Delphi would have encouraged some sort of relationship beyond that of merely being amiable co-workers. Perhaps not conjunxes, but likely lovers.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The days continued to pass, but Pharma had not yet succeeded at gaining full possession of Ratchet's frame. He could wrangle it away for a few moments, but no more than that. He needed more.

After much thought, he realized a new tactic would be called for. Simply using Ratchet to torture and kill First Aid would be impossible. But there were other means to an end, and he'd found a good one. 

Why had he not noticed it before? Ratchet's emotional emptiness since Pharma's separation was a huge weak point just waiting to be exploited.

He began to insert some particular ideas into Ratchet's thoughts, to change his mind, to waken old desires. As Ratchet drifted into recharge at night, something of his younger, much more adventurous self took over. What had once been past memories of Pharma, thanks to Pharma's manipulations, were replaced by fresh thoughts of First Aid. And these weren't thoughts of work. There was no admiration for the new CMO's skill or dedication. There was no pride over how well First Aid was handling the constant challenges of keeping the Lost Light's crew physically intact.

No. There was only lust. A lust that made his thoughts drift into all sorts of inappropriate places.

But why shouldn't they? There was so much to like about First Aid besides his professional competence. His cute, boxy frame. His sweetness in consoling the wounded. His charming voice. Those sturdy hips. Careful fingers. How would the touch of those fingers feel? How would they feel touching something more personal? Did he ever touch himself with them? Did he prefer to touch his spike or his valve? What color was his spike? How tight was his valve?

Ratchet found himself daydreaming about the CMO whenever there was nothing else to distract him. And when he broke out of the day-dreams, he blamed the stress and the fact that it had been so long since he'd interfaced with anyone. After Pharma's departure he'd been far too busy to consider any sort of a relationship. Life had been non-stop for him.

Anyway, he couldn't keep letting himself become distracted in such a way. He had to stay focused on his work and follow First Aid's example. Ascetic devotion to his job. That's what was needed here, wasn't it?

-o-o-o-o-o-

But the thoughts and daydreams continued as Pharma's influence over Ratchet strengthened. Ratchet's emotional solitude was a wide open door, and the former Autobot CMO was practically holding it open for him. Sometimes now Pharma didn't even have to guide him into staring at First Aid. Ratchet began watching him of his own accord.

And eventually Pharma knew the time was right. A few suggestions and Ratchet could be blinded by lust. A few experiments in the privacy of his quarters had proven that. And once blinded, Ratchet could be subdued.

The stage was set.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Served Hot" continues in Chapter 2: Pharma's Revelation

-o-o-o-o-o-


	2. Pharma's Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pharma makes his move against Ratchet and First Aid, possessing the former and trapping the latter in the medibay. Heed the warnings; it's not pretty from here on out.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The medibay was empty. No patients. No admissions. Nothing happening aboard the Lost Light. Ratchet and First Aid were alone.

Sensing this might be the day, Pharma bombarded Ratchet's processor with salacious thoughts to weaken him.

“I'll go get us some energon, shall I?” First Aid announced, finishing up the last of restocking one of the supply cabinets.

As he walked past Ratchet, Pharma suddenly took over, stretching out an arm to block the CMO's path.

“Ratchet?” First Aid asked, surprised by the gesture.

“You know... I've always found you attractive.”

First Aid was stunned by the admission. “Ratchet? Excuse me?”

“Very attractive.”

First Aid stared at the medic. Strangely, Ratchet had been staring at him lately. Sometimes he'd noticed that Ratchet even paused in his work to watch him. Was this what it was about? He'd never entertained any thoughts of involving himself with the much older mech. The extreme professionalism they kept in the medibay left little space for fraternizing, even outside of the medibay. Besides, he still was hurting from the loss of Ambulon.

“Forget the energon. Let's spend our break together, shall we? I've got some high-grade hidden in my office we can share.” His hand brushed First Aid's arm in a little too familiar manner. “I think we have a lot in common, you and I.”

That voice. It was Ratchet's voice, but at the same time it wasn't Ratchet's voice. Ratchet didn't talk that way, all smooth and low. That was how Pharma spoke. First Aid felt his spark spin faster. “Ratchet, I don't think it's funny imitating...”

The sentence was cut off as Ratchet backed him up against the mediberth behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked as strong arms leaned onto the edge of the berth, corralling his slightly smaller frame.

“Confused, little nurse? I think you have an idea.” Sharp lips found their way to First Aid's neck, pricking the sensitive cables with kisses.

First Aid's vents seized up at once. On some occasions Pharma had called him that, but never Ratchet. Ratchet had promoted him back to his status as a doctor right after joining the crew of the Lost Light.

“Maybe you should pay a bit more attention.”

A wave of anxiety washed over First Aid as the other mech then kissed his mouth, pushing him back onto the berth as he did so. “What's going on? Ratchet!? Why are you doing this?” He didn't struggle as red hands manipulated his frame, moving the unresistant CMO. “Ratchet?”

The laugh wasn't Ratchet's. “I told you that you should pay a bit more attention.”

There came a solid clicking sound, and First Aid looked down to see that beneath the cover of kisses and confusion, his arms had been locked into the built-in restraints, the pair of adjustable manacles utilized when dealing with hysterical or violent patients. “Pharma?” he hazarded.

The other mech smiled at him. It was definitely Ratchet's tired face, but the expression could only belong to Pharma. There was that crooked tilt to the lips, the haughty gleam in the optics, the almost sinister tilt to the brow-ridges. Delphi's CMO had possessed an exceptionally articulated faceplate, and had consequently been a very expressive mech. But seeing Pharma's character imposed upon Ratchet's features made the situation all the more grotesque. “Now don't be ridiculous, little nurse. I can't be Pharma. Pharma's dead.”

“Of course Pharma's dead,” stated First Aid, beginning to tremble in fear. “I...” He stalled. Perhaps mentioning that he'd been the one to kill him might not be the best thing to say right now. “I watched you die.” He struggled against the manacles, attempting to pull his hands free of them, but to no avail.

Pharma took hold of one of First Aid's legs and forced it into one of the lower restraints. And even as First Aid fought, he managed to get the CMO's other leg likewise pinned. “Be logical. If Pharma's dead, then how can he be here?” His hands curled over First Aid's knees and pushed his legs apart.

First Aid shivered and he tried to squirm away, but the restraints held tightly, allowing the strong hands of the medic to wander unhindered.

“Such a sweet little nurse,” Pharma cooed as he stroked First Aid's chest. “Such a nice frame. I'll bet Ambulon loved it too. Well now it's my turn to enjoy it.” His hand dropped down to the modesty panel at the center of First Aid's hip construct, eliciting a startled gasp.

First Aid went for his comm's, only to find that a field damper had been activated in the area. That left him with simply shouting for help, but Pharma had apparently anticipated that as well. As he began to cry out, Pharma took a swipe at his throat, ripping out a couple of cables and turning his call into a suffocated buzzing.

The mech before him smiled maliciously before returning his attention back to the cover shielding First Aid's interface array. His fingertips wriggled around the edges, seeking out the catches. And when he found them, he managed to open the protective panel, but not without some difficulty. “You're all stiff. Those catches haven't even been oiled in ages. You've been denying yourself, haven't you?” Pharma leered. “Well you don't have to any more, my lovely little nurse. Just relax and let me take care of everything.”

First Aid continued to squirm as the hands grew more insistent... more personal. Pharma reached up and opened First Aid's mask, caressing the CMO's lips before forcing a kiss from him. He tried to pull away, but only ended with the jet's hand around his throat and his attacker scratching his lips.

“I ordered you to relax,” Pharma leered. “You're just going to hurt yourself if you don't relax.”

Taking several desperate invents to cool his frame, First Aid off-lined his optics. This couldn't be happening. This really, truly couldn't be happening. A mnemosurgeon had him. A hacker had him. Ratchet. What had happened to Ratchet? It might be Ratchet's frame, but something else was in control of it. He could imagine Ratchet perhaps making a drunken pass at him at a party, but not this. The old medic was too principled, and perhaps while he might enjoy a bit of fun in the berth, if he could actually bring himself to it, he could never imagine Ratchet taking anyone by force.

There were stories... old tales... that spoke of ghosts, of sparks that wandered in search of weak-willed mechs to possess. But those stories were just entertaining fiction—clever plot devices used by the entertainment industry. And yes, Pharma had once been Ratchet's bondmate in eons past, and there were stories of one's dead bondmate remaining in the spark of the living one. But those were just stories and plot devices as well, weren't they? It couldn't really happen, could it?

Pharma continued his caresses, his voice softening to a whisper. “I can feel your heat... so very, very warm. You're loving this, aren't you? Wanting this.” The mech's hand slipped onto First Aid's exposed array. “There's even a bit of lubrication here.”

His optics on-lining again, First Aid shook his head frantically. Not that it mattered. It was obvious that Pharma wasn't going to let him go one way or the other.

Pharma smiled down at the helpless mech, his trademark smirk all the more sickening. “Time for a little more, don't you think? I'm quite warmed up myself now,” he teased sadistically. He moved his hand, extending one finger and swirling it about the slick mesh threshold. His gaze flicked back up to First Aid's optics, hungry to drink in the mech's worry and fear, and he was not left wanting. The CMO looked terrified. “You are loving this...” he gloated. And with that he pushed his finger inside.

The gloating leer on his face disappeared for a moment as he encountered a bit of resistance. He prodded experimentally inside, First Aid squirming all the harder, before withdrawing his finger. The evil smile returned. “You surprise me, little nurse. You're still sealed. And here I thought you and Ambulon were going at it every night up in your ward there.” He leaned in, pressing his lips against First Aid's audial. “It looks like I'll have the honor of being your first,” he hissed.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Served Hot" concludes in Chapter 3: Pharma's Revenge

-o-o-o-o-o-


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pharma enacts his revenge upon Ratchet, and First Aid makes sure it will never happen again.

-o-o-o-o-o-

First Aid could feel tears of optic wash running down his faceplate. He'd been through a lot of scary situations in his life, but this one had it's own particular flavor of horror. Pharma, somehow having taken possession of Ratchet's frame, was about to take his virginity in what was probably the worst way possible.

His vents roared. His coolant steamed. His struts creaked as his frame fought against the restraints. If only Pharma hadn't muted him, he could perhaps talk some sanity into his tormentor. Or perhaps he could somehow stir Ratchet—provided Ratchet still remained in his frame, not removed but only suppressed.

“Oh First Aid... if you don't stop struggling like that I'm going to have to immobilize you completely,” Pharma threatened. “You don't want this to hurt more than necessary, do you? Unsealing is bad enough on its own without you making it worse.” His fingertips rubbed over the CMO's anterior node. 

First Aid stopped his struggles. Sadly Pharma was right. But it made the stimulation to his anterior node all the worse... or perhaps all the better. He could feel the lubrication in his valve automatically increase as his interface protocols were triggered. He shut off his optics again and tried to shut out the world. This wasn't happening. It was just a bad memory someone had planted in him and somehow he couldn't break free.

“There now... much better,” Pharma purred. “I think you're ready now.” He moved around a bit. “Now let's see what old Ratchet has for a nice little nurse like you.”

First Aid bit his lip as he heard the sound of a modesty panel sliding away with some difficulty. Pharma was sick, sick, sick.

Pharma chuckled. “Hmmm... no rust down here surprisingly. Lucky for you, First Aid.” His fingers moved from stimulating the node to rubbing some of the lubricant about the outer surfaces of the array.

First Aid did his best to keep still—to relax. As there was no foreseeable escape, the faster Pharma got this over with the better.

“There... good little nurse. Just lie back and relax. I know it will hurt—the first time always does—but don't worry. You'll feel so much better after this.”

The CMO's hands gripped the restraints holding him as something warm and blunt was pressed against his array, rubbing itself in the now copious lubricant. It felt so very different from the finger of earlier... much thicker, much stiffer, much less flexible. With a mocking gentleness the end of the spike dipped into his valve slightly, stroking itself through the lubricant and preparing the way with the shallowest of pushes. And when First Aid felt both of Pharma's hands find purchase on his hips, he in-vented and tried to steel himself. The moment had arrived.

With one unforgiving thrust, Pharma's spike tore through the seal, the thick rod mercilessly breaking through the barrier. His scream only a buzz of static, the CMO arched off of the berth in distress and pain, trying to pull away. But strong hands and stronger restraints held him in place.

Pharma chuckled and with a second shove hilted himself completely in the slick, wet valve. He'd never expected his revenge to take this route, but he was glad it had. He looked down upon the terrified and tortured medic, enjoying every delicious moment. First Aid was completely undone and sobbing bitterly against the mediberth.

He began to rock in and out of the smaller mech, gloating in cruel pleasure and triumph. Every thrust was just one more victory. A quick, focused scan told him that the tear had been particularly ragged and some of the valve lining had been damaged collaterally. Energon tainted the lubricants inside. And he kept thrusting as First Aid collapsed in defeat on the platform, his frame going strutless as every desire to resist fled. Soon the only sound was that of the rhythmic pounding.

Overload approached, and Pharma chased it into a hard release, wondering if the old medic's frame could take it. And it could. What's more, he felt the pleasure as much as he would have had he been in a body of his own. He'd expected a considerable dulling of the sensations, but Pharma found every moment to be as wonderful as he remembered. In fact it was so good, he found himself off-lining as the sensations peaked. Though it occurred to him that perhaps Ratchet's frame had grown so unused to the situation and it was to blame.

Through sheer power of will he managed to maintain consciousness, though afterward he recovered slowly—the situation sweetened by the savoring of the misery and tears of his victim beneath him. Eventually he felt steady enough to continue, and he pulled out to look down at his spike, thoroughly coated in lubricant and transfluid and energon. The same mixture was dripping out of First Aid's abused valve and pooling on the mediberth. “Well then little nurse. You were a delight, but I suppose it's time to get back to work.”

First Aid only turned his head to the side, sobbing static and hot tears.

“Now don't be like that,” Pharma said smoothly. “It was your first time—something sweet and special.” He leaned forward and took First Aid by the chin, turning his face back to his. “Oh, and it was very sweet. Sweet and hot.” He kissed First Aid's trembling lip components and then ran his glossa up the CMO's cheek through the mech's scalding tears. With a grunt he shoved himself forward again, impaling First Aid once more.

First Aid jerked, his cry of pain coming out as yet another broken buzz.

“Tell me, little nurse, were you saving yourself for me all this time? I'm honored that you chose me over Ambulon.” He chuckled at this bit of irony. “And those must have been such long lonely days there at Delphi.” He bucked his hips again, sinking himself deeply in the dripping valve. “Oh, but no more. Now you'll have me. I'm not abandoning you now,” he whispered, his voice sinister and low. His hand tightened on First Aid's chin. “I'll be back. You can count on that. I'll be back again and again to enjoy your tight little valve, and to enjoy watching you submit to me. And you'll never know when I'll be coming for you.” Slowly he kissed him again, lingering to lick away some of the tears.

Suddenly his optics flickered and he in-vented deeply. And then he straightened, looking about as if he'd just woken in a strange place. When his optics fell on First Aid lying on the mediberth in front of him with his arms locked into the restraints, his mouth fell open in surprise as he stared at the disheveled sobbing mech. That was when he discovered that they were connected at the groin.

Ratchet pulled back, yanking his spike out of First Aid, a gush of commingled fluids following. “Primus!” he gasped. “What was I doing? In the medibay?”

First Aid looked up at him, his mouth moving with only a buzz.

“First Aid? What were we doing?” he asked. “I mean, it's obvious what... but...” When he focused on the pool of fluid between First Aid's thighs, he saw that it contained an unhealthy amount of energon. Then he saw that First Aid's legs were also locked in place. “Oh Primus, he croaked. “What have I done?” In a panic he retracted his spike and closed up his array.

Quickly he unlocked the restraints, freeing the CMO's limbs. “Don't get up. You're a mess, and you're bleeding.” His hand flattened on First Aid's chest to emphasize the point. Then he opened one of the mediberth's drawers and pulled out a handful of absorption towels, placing them in the spill. “First Aid, talk to me. How did this happen?” He pulled over a tray of tools and began to blot away at First Aid's array with another towel. “There's a piece of... oh slag! That's a piece of seal.” He looked up at First Aid, now propped up on his elbows, tears running afresh from beneath his visor. “First Aid? Talk to me. What happened here? What did I...” his voice crackled with static at the rising horror. “What did I do to you?” he choked.

First Aid fiddled at his throat, trying to reconnect his vocalizer. When Ratchet realized what he was doing and saw what the problem was, he moved quickly to the side of the berth and finished the job.

“Oh Primus...” First Aid coughed through his tears. And then he gripped Ratchet's arm, his visor nearly white with emotional strain.

“First Aid. This looks bad. Really bad. And I don't know how...” He looked down at himself, wincing at the incriminating spatters of fluid on his thighs. “The last thing I remember is us finishing up the restocking, and then you saying that you were going to go fetch us some energon... And then...” He went back to First Aid's open array and stared numbly. “I don't know. I don't remember. There's a blank in my memories. It's as if... as if I were offline, but... But obviously I wasn't.” 

Yes, he had to admit, at least to himself, that he'd wanted this. How many times of late had he imagined himself with First Aid spread before him? And it had always been such a delicious sight—the younger mech offering himself, and then dripping with lubricant and transfluid after that precious offering had been consumed. Just this morning he'd been barely able to concentrate on the restocking of the medbay he'd been so overwhelmed by lustful thoughts.

But this? How had it come to this, First Aid having been locked down, and apparently having lost his virginity in the act, and himself with no memory of it? This wasn't just a bondage scenario gone wrong. First Aid had obviously been unwilling and been taken by force. He was shaking and sobbing, genuinely traumatized by what had occurred between them.

Clearing his processor, he looked up again at the CMO. “First Aid, talk to me... what happened?”

First Aid only stared back, his fingers twitching and everything feeling so very wrong. “Please, just repair me,” he said in a small voice. At least until he'd figured out how to explain things, he could stall for time.

How could the CMO explain this? That Pharma had somehow taken possession of Ratchet's frame, and with it had cruelly raped him? That was fiction. It was nonsense. Ratchet was a skeptic to say the least, but who else would even believe him?

Ratchet, also at a loss, went to work on the damages, which thankfully were minor.

First Aid lay back on the mediberth, staring at the ceiling. What was he going to do?

He had no doubt of Pharma's word. The corrupt Autobot was sure to make good on his threat. He would somehow possess Ratchet once more and violate them both.

Again and again...

Possess Ratchet...

Ratchet...

First Aid felt his internals churn and his fluids run cold.

Ratchet...

Ratchet was at the center of everything.

Ratchet had come to Delphi. Ratchet had stolen Pharma's hands, inciting him to revenge. Ratchet had brought him and Ambulon into the non-stop drama that was the Lost Light. Ratchet had challenged Pharma to a contest that brought about Ambulon's death. Ratchet had been Pharma's bondmate, which had allowed Pharma to return.

Ratchet was there at the core of his pain—the center of every anguish since the old medic had come to Delphi. He might not be the villain, and he might be a victim himself, but he was always the villain's facilitator. The executioner's sword. The murderer's knife. The serpent's fangs.

First Aid began to tremble again, realizing what had to be done. A darkness rose in his spark, one he would normally quash, but this time he allowed it to rise, borne upon too many shed tears.

To stop Pharma—to stop everything—he first had to stop Ratchet.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Ratchet finished the repairs and helped First Aid to his feet just as the medibay's doors opened. Ultra Magnus entered, followed by Boss and Aquafend, all optics focusing on the two medics. “First Aid? You comm'ed?”

First Aid cycled his vents, and then drew himself up. For his sake—for Ambulon's sake, for everyone's sake—this had to be done. And once he set the ball rolling, there would be no stopping it. “I wish to press charges against Ratchet,” he said slowly.

Ratchet gasped, staring at the CMO.

“Charges? Against Ratchet?” Ultra Magnus looked over at the old mech, a mech he'd known for millions of years. This was highly unusual. “For what?”

First Aid fought to held himself steady. “Unlawful restraint and sexual assault.”

“What!?”

Boss and Aquafend looked equally astounded.

“The video logs of the past hour in the medibay will contain everything. He forced me onto a mediberth, locked me into the restraints, and without my consent opened my array and forced his spike into me.” First Aid's voice was calm, but inside he was a storm of fear and anger and self-loathing. He didn't want to be doing this, but he saw no other way to end the cycle.

Ratchet cringed.

The security team gaped.

Ultra Magnus looked completely doubtful. He turned to the former CMO. “Ratchet?”

The mech stared a moment at First Aid, and then hung his head shamefully with a deep sigh. “I'm not sure I can contest the charges.”

It was Ultra Magnus' turn to gape. Ratchet wasn't denying the shocking accusation? What in the pit was going on here?

Ultra Magnus sighed himself, gathering his thoughts. He hated to do this, but it was his duty. “Ratchet, as this constitutes a violent crime,” he began sadly, “I'll have to put you in the brig.”

“I understand,” Ratchet said defeatedly, his optics never leaving the floor.

“An investigation will begin immediately, and pending the results, we may be able to commute brig time to confinement in your habsuite.”

“Certainly.”

Ultra Magnus nodded at the security team, who escorted him out. Ratchet went complacently, his head still hanging.

“First Aid?” Ultra Magnus turned back to the CMO and cocked a brow ridge. “This is a very serious charge you're making. And things seem a bit... off.”

“I know,” First Aid said, still fighting the storm within. It was best to stay quiet. The video logs would be enough to condemn the facilitator.

“I'm going to require that someone perform a physical examination upon you as well, you understand.”

“Of course.”

Ultra Magnus was a bit surprised at the mech's cold resolution to see this through. “I'm going to call in Velocity, both to examine you and to take over the medibay temporarily. And I'm also going to bring in Rung.”

First Aid nodded. He'd expected as much.

“You're really certain about this?”

“I am.”

He was certain. Very certain. If getting Ratchet locked away would keep Pharma from continuing his revenge, and keep Ratchet from causing him or anyone else any more harm obliquely, then he would do everything within his power to make that happen.

Ultra Magnus pulled a datapad from subspace and brought out a stylus. Then pulling up a chair he opened the crime report form. Heaving another sigh, he looked over at the CMO. “All right. Tell me what happened.”

First Aid vented deeply. “I'm not sure why he did this... We'd just finished restocking some of the cabinets here in the medbay...”

-o-o-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-

The End

-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-o-o-


End file.
